Category: General Comment

Clicking the image opens the GoFundMe page.Oxford, OH brewpub Quarter Barrel Brewing announced a $40,000 crowdfunding campaign on July 12. The GoFundMe-based campaign is intended to support the construction of a second, larger, location in Hamilton, OH. Construction at the corner of Main and B streets has begun with plans including a five-barrel brewery, a restaurant with a farm-to-table menu similar to the Oxford location, and a rooftop deck overlooking the Great Miami River and downtown Hamilton. Plans are for the location to open sometime in Fall.

It’s not news that a local brewery is launching a crowdfunding campaign. It would be news, in fact, if a month went by where one of them wasn’t. Besides the familiar Kickstarter and GoFundMe sites, there is at least one crowdfunding platform (CrowdBrewed) specifically dedicated to raising money for breweries. One analysis of 587 campaigns found that barely half of those efforts succeeded with an average of a just over $21,000 raised. Play your cards right and you can await death and taxes in a taproom that was part of an inevitable crowdfunding effort.

How to talk about crowdfunding is also a problem. We’ve written about efforts here in the past and have reposted announcements for others on Facebook and Twitter. Carla and I have both contributed to different ones under our own names in the past. We disclose that fact if we write about the campaigns while they’re active. This particular campaign falls in that category. We were only asked to publicize the campaign and were not offered (nor would we accept) anything other than whatever is included in our chosen pledge level. But there are so many campaigns. We could never write about — much less contribute to — all of them.

So why talk about any crowdfunding effort at all? Part of what I think sets small, local, breweries apart from their much, much larger kin is the community-building that happens as a result. I’m not aware of any business that wouldn’t be thrilled to have people just send them money. Heck, you can send me money.1 I’m pretty sure I can dig up a sticker somewhere. But that’s not really what these appeals are about. They’re about forging a connection between a brewery and someone who lives in that community.2

Quarter Barrel’s owner and brewer Brandon Ney has captured that sentiment perfectly in his appeal:

If you’ve never opened a restaurant before, then allow us to applaud your life choices. It isn’t cheap. A brewpub, even less so. Taken as a whole, including the build-out and property, the capital outlay for this project is over a million dollars. We are seeking to crowd fund under four percent of the total budget, or about forty thousand dollars.

Crowd funding is like your cousin asking to borrow money that you both know you’ll never see again. But we sincerely reject the idea of asking for something for nothing. So we are offering several considerations in return for your generous donation. This way we all ultimately come away with something: the best restaurant and brewpub in Butler County.

Carla and I have known Brandon through our involvement with the U.S. Open Beer Championships. The only reason we don’t stop at Quarter Barrel when we’re in Oxford is if they’re closed. The beers brewed there are outstanding. The Lavosh flatbreads are the healthiest thing with which I have an unhealthy relationship. There are other things on the menu. I’m sure they’re delicious, but I always get the Lavosh. Oxford technically falls outside the Hoperatives coverage area, but the Hamilton/Middletown/Monroe corridor is becoming a very important part of the Cincinnati beer scene. Quarter Barrel will join Municipal Brew Works in making sure each end of the Main Street bridge is close to a brewery.

Later this week we’ll be featuring a crowdfunding appeal that is equally dear to our hearts. Stay tuned.

1 But if you’re liking the idea of sending us money, remember you can always leave a tip over there in the right sidebar. Just saying.2Please don’t misunderstand me. We have breweries here in town that serve large regions and still make community-building central to their efforts. Crowdfunding is one way to build a personal connection. It’s not the only way.

I’m sitting at the bar having lunch with a friend the other day. It’s a cozy place I like a lot and don’t get to often enough. We were actually on our way somewhere else when a fruitless attempt at avoiding holiday traffic put us out front. The point was to have lunch and catch up and my friend had never been there before. There was a convenient parking spot out front, so I called an audible and here we were.

We’d both ordered a beer and the owner overheard us talking about them. It’d been forever since I’d been there, but he remembered me. There was a thing he wanted to bend my ear about. The three of us wound up talking about it and about a dozen other things on and off for the rest of the time we were there. We eventually decided we need to get back to other things. We paid our bill and we were on our way. It was a thoroughly pleasant experience.

The owner had frequently apologized for joining our conversation and we’d both assured him it was fine. The topic was interesting, but it’s not what this is about. The point of this story is that things like this happen all the time. The only thing a little unusual about the other day is that Carla wasn’t there. We’ve both noticed we’re more likely to be recognized when we’re together than when we’re solo. It’s become a part of our lives.

Yesterday was a bit of a milestone for Hoperatives. We turned eight-and-a-half. Anyone who’s ever been an eight-year-old knows it’s very important to recognize that half year. Carla and I will have been married 19 years in just over a week. Intellectually I understand that we’d been married more than 10 years before we ever started working on this, but I honestly don’t remember what it was like not having Hoperatives be part of our identity. I don’t know if that’s actually a good thing mental-health-wise, but mental health has never been my strong suit, so I’m OK with it.

I know this is sounding a little like a eulogy. Or maybe a lot like a eulogy. That’s not the point of this either. We’re not shutting down Hoperatives. Not today, anyway. What we are doing with it is an open question. That’s the point of this. Where do we go from here? (Hey! I have a title!)

An occupational hazard of being human is that you develop these little scripts to get you across the social landscape from Point A to Point B. The one that applies here is the one about how there were only four breweries and one brewpub in Cincinnati when we started. When we told people what we were doing we got one of two questions (that we still get to this day): “Do you sell hops?” 1and “Do you home brew?”2. Carla has described Hoperatives as an informational website for several years now. When someone asks me what it is I freeze like a deer in the headlights. I never quite know what to say. Then again, that’s true of most things people ask me about.

The thing is, “Why Hoperatives?” has always been a little vague. Over the years we’ve done things and then stopped doing them when there didn’t seem to be a need for it anymore. We used to give out Hoperatives numbers. If you search for “Roll Call” in the search box over there to the right you can still find it. More than 400 folks have asked for a number over the years, but we never really had any plans for what to do with them other than thinking it was a fun idea. If you have a Hoperatives number you’ll be happy to know that there is no list of email addresses associated with it. There’s no danger of spam because we never got that organized.

Eight years ago today. An unplanned coincidence. Also: 6:36 AM?

We used to do Hoperatives Happenings as a way for people to gather and geek out about beer without having the overhead of a beer dinner. We introduced folks (and ourselves) to places that embraced better beer. We stopped doing them when it became too hard to schedule them because there were too many other events going on. There just wasn’t a need anymore. So we stopped.

We did a blogging conference in conjunction with the Cincy Winter Beerfest for a couple of years. By the end of the second one we knew there wasn’t a reason to have a third. It was pretty obvious “Peak Blogging” had come and gone.

More than a dozen people have written for us at one time or another. “Traveling Tuesdays” came out of the fact that many of us sought out better beer locations when we were traveling for business or pleasure. But folks have lives. They move on. They have jobs and families. Loving beer and writing about beer are two different things. Most of the regular writers were friends before they wrote for us. Now they’re friends who used to write for us. The right thing remains.

We used to do previews of new local places and beer reviews. The reviews stopped early on because it’s a rat hole you can never climb out of. People love the reviews they agree with and hate the ones they don’t. Thus it was, is, and ever shall be. Since we weren’t trying to change anyone’s mind, it seemed like a lot of effort for no good end. News faded out more slowly. All of our major local print publications do a great job with beer as a beat, as do several of the broadcast outlets. By the time we quit doing news, we were pretty much just running press releases.

So what’s Hoperatives now? Here on the site, it’s mostly event listings. It’s incomplete because it relies on a very few people emailing us, but otherwise it’s an aggregation of events that Carla finds posted on Facebook. A weekly summary gets sent out to a mailing list. We have a Twitter account that I update on occasion and Carla handles the Facebook side. We’ve suspected for some time that the Facebook reach is much wider than the site. It definitely triggers more social interaction. Perhaps because that’s what it’s designed for? Facebook wasn’t close to being the media gatekeeper it is now when we launched, but now it is.

There’s really only one thing that’s been a constant with Hoperatives: We’ve never turned a profit doing it. That’s not a complaint. We never had a plan and we’ve executed it flawlessly. There was a time we were part of the Cincinnati Enquirer‘s blog network and that mostly covered the hosting fees and a bit more. That ended a couple of years ago when they changed their strategy. We haven’t — and won’t — run the numbers but over its life there’s no way it’s been anything but a loss financially. Then again, so are Bengals season tickets. I think we’re ahead on that.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating by saying Hoperatives has changed our lives for the better. You probably can’t say that. It would, be kind of weird if you could. Many, many, many of you have told us how much you appreciate what we do. That’s different. I’m proud of the perch we’ve had watching the beer scene mature here. We’ve been welcomed by brewers, distributors, and fans. Once in a while, we’ve been able to be part of bringing the parts together. A small part. I can’t honestly say there’s anything that wouldn’t have happened in the beer scene had we not existed. And that’s as it should be. We’ve been more than fortunate.

I said earlier that this isn’t a eulogy, but it’s also not a “business-as-usual” post. Hoperatives has to evolve or go away. We’ve been close to hanging it up a couple of times but it seems we find something new to start doing and run with that. Maybe we will this time. Maybe we won’t. What I can say is that we have until Sunday, December 31, 2017 to figure it out. That will be nine years to the day since we put up our first test post to make sure I’d gotten WordPress installed correctly. By that date, we figure out what we can do to be a unique part of the Cincinnati beer scene, or we call it a whatever-you-call-nine-years. We don’t know what that will be. If we did, I’d be working on that instead of writing this. We like being a resource. We’re committed to the Cincinnati beer community. It has to be something that’s worth the time we invest. Beyond that, it’s just spit-balling at this point.

We’ll come up with something or we won’t. We’re always open to talking ideas over a beer.

1 No.2 Not really. There are so many professionals out there willing to do it for me in exchange for small amounts of money.

April 1 snuck up on me this year. In past years we’ve published a review of Cincinnati water, covered the announcement of a brewery sponsored by the Second Primitive Chuch of Satan (Reformed), and announced the secret collaboration between Dogfish Head and AB-InBev. This year? I got nothing.

I called up my old friend Anton Spargewater a couple of days ago talk the situation over.

“Dude. You know I’m an imaginary character, right? ” he said, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“How do you know you’re not the real one and I’m the imaginary one, huh?” I countered, “Bet you didn’t think of that, did you?”

“I’m glad you called because otherwise I’d be backing away from you slowly right now,” he said. “By the way, why are you calling? And why go to the added step of imagining a phone call rather than, I dunno just having me talk to you in person?”

“I’m not currently wearing pants.”

“Oh. Thanks for that image,” he said, “even imaginary characters can have nightmares. Look, what do you want?”

“OK, fine.” He’s clearly exasperated now. “The whole idea of April Fool’s is to come up with a ridiculous premise and try to sell it as real, right?”

“Right.”

“And you write about the beer world, right?”

“Yes,” I say, “When I can think of something.”

“Fine,” he says, “What have you got that’s nuttier than reality right now?”

“What did you mean?”

“The holier-than-thou owner of Lagunitas sells out to Heineken for a billion dollars and does it with a straight face. Stone is about to open a brewery in Germany because what the hell do those people know about making beer? There are more breweries in operation now than at any time in the history of the United States and all you read in the popular press is how craft brewing is under siege.”

“But AB-InBev…” I begin.

“…will probably be jerks because that’s their business model,” he says without missing a beat, “Somehow ‘big is always bad,’ but as best I can tell Starbucks is having trouble finding locations for new stores because Oskar Blues is already building a brewery there. And nobody says a word.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says without drawing a breath,”and let’s not even talk about the stunt beers. I used to think the ultimate would have been Dogfish Head and BrewDog doing a collab called “Publicity Stunt.” But now you have a arms race to find the most disgusting place to culture yeast.”

“You’re talking about that Polish brewery, aren’t you?” I ask.

“If you link to them, I will end you.” he says flatly.

“No worries,” I say, ” ’tain’t gonna happen.”

“I hate you,” he says, “Keep that up and I’ll come up with an actual corporeal existence so I can kick your ass.”

We were silent for a long time. It was really quiet. My imaginary cell phone service is really good. It only drops calls when I try to contact reality.

“We done?” he asks.

“Think so.” I say.

“Sorry you called?”

“Not as sorry as the people reading this.”

“Meh. Whadaya gonna do?”

“Hey, good talking to you,” I say, “give my best to the missus.”

“WHAT?” he screams, “I’m MARRIED? When were you planning to tell me that?”

Earlier this year, I wrote a post on my personal blog called “The Death of Blogging?.” You can go read the whole post (it’s not long), but here are the last two paragraphs:

We blog (or publish web content, if you prefer) because we have a passion for the topic. Years ago, Merlin Mann and John Gruber pointed out that a successful blog needed three things: “obsession + topic + voice”. I’ve written about this before and it’s still true.

But, in a world where apps and songs cost 99 cents, is that enough any more? If no one is willing to advertise with you or pay for your content or give you any respect (see Mike Elgan’s comment above [he called bloggers “floggers”]), it may not be.

It’s been almost seven years since we started Hoperatives. In fact, it was almost exactly seven years since we started planning and designing what this would be. The idea was hatched during a beer dinner at Rock Bottom that then head brewer Mitch Dougherty hosted. We’ve always considered Rock Bottom to be Hoperatives’ birthplace and Mitch to be its brewer godfather.

Now, seven years later, Mitch is across the river brewing at Ei8ht Ball and we don’t visit Rock Bottom as frequently as we used to. One of the main reasons is that the better beer scene in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky has exploded since then. There are so many choices now that it can be a bit overwhelming.

As the years have gone by and the number of breweries and brew pubs increased (as well as the number of locations selling better beer), we have tried to keep up. About three years ago, we added our weekly newsletter which steadily grows in the number of subscribers. We’ve streamlined both our This Week in Beer listings and our Tastings and Tappings Report. And we’ve tried different features from time to time like our recent Beers We Love Now series.

We have also focused more on our directory of local breweries, brewpubs, etc. and local beer events in the area. While we have covered local beer news from time to time, professional journalists like Shauna Steigerwald at the Enquirer and Jesse Folk at WCPO do a much better job of it so we leave it to them.

You may remember that for several years, we were part of Cincinnati.com blog network. While the money we received for being part of that network wasn’t a huge amount, it did cover our hosting costs and other expenses. That relationship ended a year and a half ago.

Since then, we have tried hard to get advertisers for Hoperatives. You probably have seen the graphic in the right column and we have sent out many copies of our media kit. Unfortunately, while several businesses have said that they wanted to advertise with us, none actually have.

More recently, we added that Tip Hoperatives option that you see to the right. This idea is borrowed from Leo Laporte and the This Week in Tech network. As of this date, exactly one person has tipped Hoperatives. Thank you so much, Kane Christensen!

Here’s the thing… As we reported earlier, I am teaching two sections of Introduction to Craft Beer this fall and trying to get a Brewing Science program approved at Cincinnati State. I’ve already cut back on many things in my life to devote more time to that endeavor, but the one thing I’ve held on to is Hoperatives. Unfortunately, that one thing is taking more and more time and, since we have to pay our own costs now, it’s the one thing that we’re actually paying to do.

So, it’s come to a put up or shut up point for us. We hear all the time how much Hoperatives means to our readers. A local brewery owner asked us to add them to our local breweries listing because they had someone tell them that they had never heard of [their brewery] and had yet to stop in because they only ever check out hoperatives.com for new breweries in the area.

If Hoperatives is of any importance to you, please encourage businesses that you frequent to request a media kit and advertise with us. If you are uncomfortable doing that, hit the link above and send us a tip. It doesn’t have to be much. Any amount would be an indication to us that the time and effort we put into Hoperatives is worthwhile.

Now, the ball’s in your court. Show us how you feel about us continuing. We’re waiting to hear from you.

The meaning of the word ‘craft’ in ‘craft beer’ is a never-ending discussion among beer folk. That’s partly due to the fact it’s most often discussed when people are drinking. No one knows when to shut up. It’s also because it’s something people are willing to believe is real without the parallel need to know exactly why one beer is “craft” and another isn’t. “I know it when I see it” is as much as anyone can really argue. Yes, there’s the Brewers Association (BA) definition, but that’s the outcome of a political process, not a statement of objective reality. And that’s not a criticism of BA. I don’t think they claim otherwise. If you’re going to form a club where you don’t want some folks joining, you’re going to have to have criteria. Otherwise, why have a group?

I had occasion to think about this during the 2015 Beer Bloggers & Writer’s Conference in Asheville, NC last month1. One of our activities was to go to the Sierra Nevada Brewing Company’s brewery just south of town in Mills River. It’s gorgeous; there’s no other word to describe it. It’s difficult to avoid a comparison to an attraction at Walt Disney World in Florida as you drive in. Don’t believe me? Check this out:

It’s not a theme park attraction, of course, it’s a working factory. And yes, breweries are factories. It’s not the way we like to think of them, but it’s what they are. It’s a place where raw materials are processed using semi- or fully-mechanized means that result in a packaged product suitable for mass distribution. Any beer that’s sold is the outcome of an industrial process that’s been refined and perfected over generations. There’s not much romance in that, but there it is.

It’s pretty clear that Sierra Nevada made the decision to build a brewery that could also be a showcase. Everything is labeled. All the production areas are visible behind glass or accessible by large groups of people (or both). It’s a working brewery, but it’s also meant to be seen. I had the opportunity to have an informal conversation with an employee who was involved in the process of bringing the facility to life. The conversation was interesting, but it really was informal and I don’t feel right quoting her directly because we weren’t explicitly on the record. Two things stand out in my mind, though. First, the company was very excited to be able to build a new facility from scratch. The original brewery in Chico, CA grew in bits and pieces as demand required. You can always plan for the future, but it’s always harder to expand an existing facility than build one from the ground up. The second thing is that a tremendous amount of work went into the planning. I don’t know this for a fact, but I have a feeling that somewhere there are storyboards that mapped out how the building and grounds were to tell the story Sierra Nevada wants to tell. That story includes beer, the company itself and its commitment to minimizing the environmental impact of a large industrial operation. It tells that story well.

Carla and I spend a lot of time giving money to the Walt Disney Corporation, so when I say there’s a Disney quality to the Mills River brewery, I mean that as a compliment. When a Disney property is really clicking for me, you experience the outcome of an excessive obsession to detail in both facilities and customer service. That’s what I saw at Sierra Nevada. I know, however, that calling something “Disney-like” can be considered a pejorative for some people. “It’s fake,” goes the thinking, “it’s the imitation of a thing and not the thing itself. Shock Top or Blue Moon or any of the other ‘crafty’ beers are the real beer Disneys.” That’s a discussion that goes beyond what I’m trying to write about here, but sufficed to say I know the mansion isn’t really haunted and it’s all fake, but I love the Haunted Mansion anyway. That’s how I can use Disney-like as a compliment.

So we’re on the busses heading down to Mills River from Oskar Blues in Brevard and I happen to be in the front seat of the lead bus. We arrive in front of the brewery and I get off the bus. There are a dozen or so folks on either side of the door inside and they’re clearly a welcoming line. A guy in blue jeans walks up to me and sticks out his hand and says, ‘Hi, I’m Ken Grossman. Welcome to Sierra Nevada”

I never really understood what it meant to “nearly plotz” until that moment. The founder of Sierra Nevada. Brewing legend. KEN frickin’ GROSSMAN is introducing himself to me! So of course my only response was to gurgle incoherently. I have a way with words. A really, really bad way. After everyone else on our bus had a similar opportunity to be star-struck, he proceeded to take us on a tour of the brewery. Then we went down to the river for a pig roast and a little oompah music. Sierra Nevada collaborated with Germany’s Brauhaus Riegele to produce a memorable Oktoberfest beer and the brewing team from Germany was there. A camera crew was also there. Here’s one of the things they put together from the footage. A disturbing number of the people in this spot are beer bloggers. 15-seconds of fame, baby:

I recommend the Oktoberfest, by the way. Marzens aren’t my absolute favorite style, but I enjoy them when the season rolls around. Brauhaus Rieglele’s recipe relies heavily on Steffi Malt which gives the beer a slightly lighter, sweeter character while still having good body and mouth feel. Steffi has been used in German brewing for decades, but it’s not as popular as it once was. Grossman said that they bought as much as they could get their hands on in order to make the beer for the US market, and that meant buying some of the malt from Riegele’s stock.

I like the video in that it shows Grossman’s easy-going demeanor. The quip about taking off the coat is a good example. They don’t explain it in the piece, but the day we were there was warm for Asheville, reaching the the mid to upper 80’s. The jacket is a German jacket that he’d admired when visiting the brewers in Germany when the collaboration was in the planning stages. It turns out that the Riegele brewmaster’s wife makes them, so Grossman and his son both ordered one. They were wearing them when we showed up to the brewery, but these are definitely cold-weather jackets. I’m surprised they lasted in them as long as they did. For the record, the Riegele brewmaster didn’t stay in his the whole time either.

So the Friday trip was great, but that’s not where my meditation on what puts the craft in craft brewing started. That had to wait until Sunday. We decided to go back to the brewery before coming back to Cincinnati. We wanted to try out the taproom and it’s less than five hours from Asheville to home, so it was a no-brainer. We get there, park and get in line to get a table. Our name is put in, and I’m sitting on a bench in the waiting area. I’m messing with my phone and suddenly I realize there’s someone standing in front of me. “Hey,” says Ken Grossman, “Did you have a good conference?” I think I was a little more coherent this time, but I still think of it as “Meeting Ken Grossman II: The Re-Plotzing.” Luckily, Carla came over and saved me socially, as she tends to do pretty much all the time. We make small-talk for a minute, then he heads to the front door to do what I’m pretty sure he walked that way to do in the first place. The front door was sticking and he noticed that people were having trouble getting in and out. So he went over to work on it. That’s him leaning over and holding the door as they try to figure out what’s binding things up.

And that’s when the light bulb went on. I have no idea how much money Ken Grossman is worth. Lots. Probably more than lots. But he owns a brewery and when he saw something wrong, his first thought was to go over and fix it. Because the brewery is something that matters to him. I’m not saying that it’s the complete and total definition of what makes a beer a craft beer, but a good part of it is that at the top there’s someone there for whom the brewery is the thing. Throw a rock at any of the breweries in Cincinnati — and I’m definitely including Sam Adams in this — and you’ll find a focus on making great beer that starts at the very top. I vaguely know who the AB-Inbev CEO is. I’m sure he knows something about beer and I’m sure he’s nice to his family and pets. I have no idea how long it’s been since he’s been in a brew house on two consecutive days from more than an hour each. In my mind, cluttered as it is, that’s what makes craft beer to me. Do I know something about who is responsible for it being here? Is there an actual person behind it all? That’s important to me. That’s the craft.

And when we left the brewery that Sunday, the door worked perfectly.

1DISCLAIMER: To receive a discounted rate to the 2015 Beer Blogger and Writer’s Conference in Asheville, NC, we agreed to write two posts about the conference. This is one of them.

Behold: the pickled egg, served with all the fixins. It is a treasured American bar snack – and, sadly, it is an endangered food.

The best $1 you’ll ever spend

I realize your first reaction to “pickled egg” is either that’s gross, bro or did you go blind? But let me ask you two questions:

1) Do you enjoy hard boiled eggs?
2) Do you enjoy pickles?

If you answered YES to both of these questions you will probably really like pickled eggs. They have an initial briny and sour bite, but set on the backdrop of the creamy and satisfying hard boiled egg. Add in some saltines, pepper, and hot sauce, and you have a world-class bar snack. So why don’t you see them at all of your favorite watering holes?

You see, dating back to the 19th century and continuing to this day, states and municipalities adopted laws requiring any establishment that serves alcohol to also serve some sort of food. This is a pretty good idea, since we’ve known for thousands of years that consuming food with alcohol is a great idea if you want to avoid ending the night stumbling home to your abode. But many bars saw this as just another regulation they need to comply with.

So, in order to do the absolute minimum to meet the law’s requirements they would make available pickled eggs. They’re cheap and they would only need to make a batch every few months…that is, if the proprietors were scrupulous. Patrons would observe how much dust was on the egg jar to surmise whether they were safe to eat.*

Obviously, there’s much more to the history of pickled eggs as a bar snack than that…but that’s the most entertaining take. Nowadays pretzels, peanuts, food trucks, and clip-strips of chips have largely replaced the humble pickled egg. And that’s too bad, because they’re delicious. I cooked up a batch over the July 4th weekend, doing my part to make America a more perfect union. They couldn’t be easier to make.

A happy refrigerator has a jar of pickled eggs in it

A final note: major props to Tandem Ciders in Suttons Bay, MI for their dedication to bringing back the pickled egg in fine fashion – pictured above. It’s the perfect accompaniment to one of their fantastic ciders. While we were there we spied Mario Batali quaffing a cider and enjoying a round of pickled eggs with his companions – that’s a man who knows a tasty snack when he sees it. Oh, and Tandem only charges $1 for them. That beats a bag of chips any day.

Do you know of any places in Cincinnati or elsewhere that serve pickled eggs?

Bockfest is the best weekend of the year for Cincinnati to celebrate itself. There are other great events in town, to be sure, but it’s impossible to name another like Bockfest. It blends the city’s unique heritage, its sense of fun and, most importantly, what it’s becoming. It’s held to celebrate a seasonal style of beer, but it’s been nurtured by its organizers to become one of the best urban festival weekends in the country that no one outside the region knows about.

It’s been well-covered elsewhere that longtime “Bockfest Czar” Mike Morgan is stepping down after this year, He has guided the event from near-oblivion to what it is today. And one time he helped guide the parade through a blizzard. A decade of playing ringmaster to a 15-ring, sometimes inebriated, circus is enough for anyone, so his decision to hang up his porkpie is perfectly understandable. There’s precedent. A pope stepped down, after all. “Czar Emeritus” has a ring to it, doesn’t it? Brewery District Executive Director Steve Hampton is poised to take the reins as Czar, so the transition should be smooth.

The parade is a true spectacle. The way it’s been embraced by the community is something truly special. There’s a good argument that the Opening Day Parade is even more embedded in the city’s DNA, but the Bockfest Parade is a People’s Parade. Fake monks. Real monks. Fake goats. Real goats. A motorized bathtub. What else could you possibly require in a parade? It steps off from Arnold’s at 6pm on Friday and makes its way up Main Street, crossing Liberty and eventually finding its way to Bockfest Hall, adjacent to the Christian Moerlein brewery and Malt House taproom.

There are practical reasons the parade starts at Arnold’s and ends near Christian Moerlein, but there’s a symbolism there as well. No one in the city is more responsible for the survival of Bockfest than Arnold’s owner Ronda Breeden. If Mike Morgan has been the czar, Ronda is the Queen Mother (because no one puts the Sausage Queen in the corner). On the other end of the route you have Christian Moerlein owner Greg Hardman. Bockfest started as a promotional effort of the Hudepohl-Shoenling Brewing Company to help promote its then-new Christian Moerlein line of beers, especially its Bock. Barrelhouse Brewing took over the reins for a few years when the venerable Hudy brands wandered in the wilderness, but Bockfest gained an enthusiastic ally the day Greg brought the Moerlein name back under local ownership and made it his flagship. His efforts have led to a place for Bockfest Hall to call home from year-to-year, a development that has helped solidify the event in the civic consciousness. Call him the Bockfest Grand Master. What about longtime Sausage Queen emcee (and Milton’s Prospect Hill Tavern owner) Kevin Feldman? What royal court would be complete without a Jester?

The number of events and venues have grown so much in the last decade. There was a time the Prohibition Resistance Tours didn’t exist. When there were just a handful of venues (as opposed to the twenty there are this year). Heck, there was a time when you had to explain what a Sausage Queen was. OK, so you still have to explain that, but that’s what makes Bockfest … Bockfest. This year there will fun (and even informative) programs Saturday afternoon at both the newly-restored Woodward Theater and at Bockfest Hall itself. There will be the first Cincinnati Superfowl (the finals of the Christian Moerlein Fowling League). And, of course, the Sausage Queen Finals. Sunday sees the rebirth of “Continental Sundays,” a tradition going back to the days when beer legally couldn’t be sold on Sundays (but was anyway).

Hovering over the entire event — like Gambrinus overseeing his happy subjects — is Bock beer. It may be the ultimate seasonal style. It’s why good German monks didn’t give up beer for Lent. They gave up eating pretty much everything else and lived on Bock. Bock beer. It’s not the reason for the season, but it’s a pretty good #2. So tomorrow we’ll make our way to Arnold’s and Bockfest Hall and spend the weekend at Cincinnati’s own festival. It looks like good weather this year. Come out and join us.

Carla and I were saddened this morning to learn of the death of Ohio Valley Distributing’s Jim Hennessey. We don’t know what happened, other than it did.

If you love good beer and live in Cincinnati then Jim Hennessey’s life touched yours. He’s been an important part of that ever-changing network of relationships that make up the beer scene for a long time. He was very good at what he did. More than that, though, he always — always — conducted himself with a fundamental kindness that was obvious from the first time you met him.

He got to see Cincinnati beer grow up. He was a big part of why it grew up. When we were starting Hoperatives he was someone who had no reason to take us seriously, but he did. He let us know what was going on. He’d send us the usual press announcements, but he’d also give us a heads up that something was getting ready to come into the market. It was ok to mention it, but it wasn’t for attribution yet. Sometimes the email would just be the logo of a brewery and the word “soon.” It gave us a chance to get ready for the onslaught that usually comes with a launch. That was Jim. He looked out for us.

In a business full of good people, Jim was among the best. He’d get excited about the beer events out at Riverbend Music Center as much for the music as the beer, It was always fun when he’d get on a riff about some part of the beer business here in town. He never badmouthed anyone, but he had a great way of telling a story. We’re going to miss that.

Today there are a lot of people mourning the loss of Jim Hennessey. Our hearts go out to his family, his colleagues and the uncountable number of people whose lives he touched in so many ways..

Next time you lift a glass of a beer worth drinking, lift one for Jim.

According to various sources on the interwebs, December 10th is National Lager Day. When I first found out about this marvelous new thing last week, I assumed the day would a national holiday celebrated with bank closures, a day off for workers everywhere (or at least for the federal government), and a series of lederhosen-and-masquerade balls held in very cold rooms as an homage to the lower temperature storage that most lagers undergo before being ready for the world.

After a brief call to my Congressman’s office, though, I learned that National Lager Day isn’t quite that official. It’s apparently not even as important as Groundhog Day. Which, you know, makes me wonder why we even have holidays. But I digress.

Lederhosen Ball or not, we can—and should—certainly celebrate without a mandate from our government and/or employer. In fact, if my research is any indication, college students have been celebrating National Lager Day for years, often without even bothering to verify that that’s actually December 10th beforehand.

And who can blame them? It’s probably December 10th somewhere. N out of 10 quantum physicists agree.

Regardless of how you might choose to recognize it, today being National Lager Day has, at least, got me thinking about all that beer fermented by bottom-dwelling, colder-thriving yeast. And the more the wheels in my head turned, the more I wondered why I smelled burning plastic. Ignoring that, I also realized that it seems lagers have maybe gotten the shorter end of the stick in the recent years of craft beer booming.

Now, sure, gallon after gallon of good quality lager is quaffed by thirsty humans every year. In fact, it’s no doubt a ponderous volume that I’m sure is remarkable without even considering the oceans of “American Light” consumed worldwide. For that matter, I’ve personally swallowed close to a good-sized lake’s worth of Sam Adams’ Boston Lager between the dawning of my craft beer drinking days more than 15 years ago and today.

But then, with all that lager, why does it seem that most of the big, high profile beers that pour forth from the minds of our nation’s creative brew masters are ales? Why does it seem that for every one truly creative Imperial Pilsner with hints of coriander, rhubarb, and sesame seed, there are ten brewers out there shoving hearts of palm and a anything else they can find on sale at Whole Foods that week into an ale with a healthy dose of hops and some kind of sugar I’ve never heard of.

Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. I do tend to do that whenever I write words in English from time to time. And having done some home brewing myself, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I understand ales are less difficult to manage, making them easier to experiment with while mitigating the possible financial setback of brewing 60 barrels of something a donkey wouldn’t even drink. Also, my knowledge of available brews isn’t exactly encyclopedic, either. It could be there are a lot more experimental Weiss beers out there that I wouldn’t recognized if I one was splashed in the face by an angry cousin at a family gathering.

And much more importantly, how do you plan to celebrate National Lager Day? Because, sure, we could leave the college kids to celebrate this on for us, but I’m thinking there are probably ways to do it that taste a whole lot better.

As you may have noticed, the air is becoming crisp, the days shorter and Christmas decorations are popping up around town. That can only mean one thing; fall has arrived in Greater Cincinnati. And though it troubles me that it has become normal around here for Christmas to arrive ten minutes after Halloween (we will save that for another post), one of my favorite things about this time of year is that fall is also stout season. Everyone has their favorite beers and beer styles and for me, the higher the SRM1 the happier I am.

Chris and Jared enjoying a Stout at Holler

I can’t really articulate what it is about stouts that make me so happy. Maybe the roastiness, or the dark chocolates. Maybe it’s how the full body makes you feel like you are really drinking a beer. Maybe, and this is a stretch, just maybe it is the often-elevated alcohol content. Whatever it is, I love a good stout. Since we are getting into the season of the stout, I thought it would be fun to find out what your favorite Greater Cincinnati brewed stout is.

So let’s hear it! What is your favorite stout? Start with your favorite that is brewed locally. I would also like to know what your all time favorite is if it doesn’t happen to be from around here. And I know Porters are really good too, they are my second favorite style (see previous SRM comment), but I am looking for stouts right now.

Let me know in the comments here, on Facebook or Twitter @cmcgnky what your favorite Cincinnati area stout is and where I can find it. Then let me know about your all-time favorite even if it is from out of town. I will be making my stout shopping list and will follow up with another post on all of the great hometown stouts out there, hopefully just in time for you to start your Christmas shopping.

1The Standard Reference Method or SRM is one of several systems modern brewers use to specify beer color. Wikipedia